Don't Be a Menace to Middle Earth
by Bacardi
Summary: I wonder if I can burn all the really bad fanfic in Mount Doom too...


Don't Be a Menace to Middle Earth While Pouring Absinthe Down Aragorn's Throat.   
  
Subtitled: Why you should never drink half a bottle of Bacardi before watching The Two Towers, especially when you already don't want to see it and you've read so much shitty fanfic about the whole thing that you definitely are sure that there is no humanity left as the world has been taken over by hormonally challenged 12 year olds who get turned on by platinum hair and pointy ears.   
  
It was daybreak at the um...camp...thing? I really have absolutely no experience with the original LOTR books, since they require way more concentration than I can devote...and I had too much of a life in high school to do it then.   
  
So, anyway, they woke up and looked around at the day. Amazingly enough...demon elf people didn't sneak up on them while they slumbered and kill them. They're dumb like that, I guess...I don't know. Then again, if they'd done that...there wouldn't be a sequel...and there are a couple more books, I think, so I guess that's a negative.   
  
Yeah, they're away and apparently they have no need for such stupid luxuries as a shower or bathroom or food...but one of them has a pipe...so I guess it's all good.   
  
They start walking. About ten steps behind them is a lush moor of the greenest grass Technicolor can buy...and about four feet from now they'll start hiking up a snow covered mountain that houses a volcano more fiery than Abalone's personality.   
  
"God, I'm a prissy bastard." Legolas muttered as he re-braided his so-not-real hair.   
  
"Huh?" The toddler with a beard dwarf questioned, forgetting he was supposed to have super-good hearing or something.   
  
"Nothing." Legolas mourned for a scrunchie but realized that such hair care products had not yet been introduced to Middle Earth. "Although, things were much easier when I was that retard in that movie with the helicopters and the mean villagers. I had no hair in that one."   
  
"Don't make me separate you two." The guy who could take some shampooing tips from the elf said. Boy was he surly dirty. There has got to be a lake or something around there someplace. The hobbit/puppy/scary guy with the hugeass eyes keeps swimming around and eating sushi...so obviously it's a personal choice not to be kempt.   
  
"There should be an unsuspecting kingdom up here someplace soon. We might be able to pick up a Mary Sue there when we deter from our mission once again to help people who already have the life expectancy of a turnip anyway." Angora wondered where his pipe was...and his mousse.   
  
"Do we have to?" Legos wondered why he couldn't have a pipe, but quickly decided it was because he will always look about twelve years old. Goddamned elven genes.   
  
"Fanfic rules." The dwarf reminded him.   
  
See, even the short guy gets it.   
  
"So, I should go ahead and weave ethereal flowers into my mane now, just to save time since I assume this means I'll be playing some elfish instrument that no one else has ever heard of in order to woo this most beautimonious chicklet?"   
  
"Yeah, might want to start drafting love poetry too." Dirty Head told him.   
  
"God damn it to hell!" The dwarf exclaimed.   
  
"What is it my saucy brethren?" Legolas wondered if this story would reveal what kind of undies elves wear.   
  
"No one ever wants me to make tender love to them under the pale moonlight in secluded surroundings that are surprisingly peaceful considering that we're in the middle of a Jihad Orc-style. It's not fair."   
  
"Tell you what, good buddy...when we find this most perfect, talented and willful girl...I'll hold her down while you chop her legs off with your hatchet. That way she won't be perfect anymore and she'll also be your height. Good times, Good times."   
  
"You're sick." Aragorn didn't realize the oil coming off of his head would heat the entire Shire. He also didn't get that that rhymed. Dumbass.   
  
"You haven't seen the slash about you, then." Legolas wondered if they ever got out of Middle Earth if Vidal Sassoon would hook him up with a commercial contract.   
  
"Oh, yup look-a-there. A perfect little hamlet nestled in the shadow of a forest full of talking trees that mankind is too stupid to understand. Does anyone else think it looks like the same place they filmed 'Heidi'?" Dwarf man wondered why in the hell he'd left his damn cave.   
  
"Okay, guys...you know the gist. The first damsel in distress that isn't too ugly that can handle a sword and make goo-goo eyes at the Elf wins. It would help if she had flaming red hair and a personality to match...or maybe if she was related to one of us in ways we won't know about until we've professed our undying love to her. By us, I mean me, myself with my hair that hasn't been washed since before the big eye was over the big tower and Legolas. No one wants you, Gimli."   
  
Just then, they heard the sweetest and most wonderful sound ever, wafting over them like...something that wafts.   
  
They all looked up, but the dwarf couldn't really see since he's vertically challenged, and saw a whimsical and stunning woman with hair like Rapunzel and an ass that wouldn't quit, singing. Enya is apparently really popular in Middle Earth. Better her than Sinead O'Connor, I guess.   
  
"Is that her?" Legolas used his elfish eyes to see that she had a third nipple. Maybe she'd realize he can see things that normally require prescription lenses and leave him alone.   
  
"Hmm...could be...Okay, let's take a vote. Yours doesn't count, dwarf, no one wants you."   
  
"I vote that I shoot her in the head and we laugh about it later." Legolas said, before he could stop himself. "Whoops. I mean. Yes, she looks like she can handle herself in the throngs of dirty, devilish war.   
  
"Okay then, it's decided...the girl in the window is with us now. I love her already."   
  
Just then, the music turned into a blood-curdling scream as they watched her fall from the window and hit the ground with what could have been a splat but sounded more like a thud.   
  
"I didn't do it." Legolas held up his hands.   
  
"Don't even look at me. Even if we had bathrooms I couldn't reach the toilet. Leave me out of this." Gimli felt suddenly ashamed at that admission, but then realized this was a fanfic and he didn't matter anyway.   
  
"Oh help! Help me please! Please someone help! A random orc just pushed my best friend from the window. Oh please help me. Take me away from here!"   
  
Aragorn didn't take time to realize that orcs aren't random and would rather decapitate than shove...but what the hell. He rushed inside anyway, and because that's what they do, the others followed him.   
  
"Legolas my sweet!" the woman-ish figure leaped into his arms and began licking his face.   
  
"Damn, she doesn't waste time, that one." Aragorn noddled to Gimli as Legolas wished Middle Earth had Tic Tacs.   
  
Legolas put his hands around her neck and began to apply pressure. He noticed pointy ears at this point, as if they aren't prominent as all get-out.   
  
"I knew you'd come for me," the pointy eared friend-pusher said, despite the fact Legolas had tried like hell to crush her windpipe. Damn him and his girly hands.   
  
"Holy fucking shit." Legolas realized that he knew this elf, from back home...he also realized that no one in the room would know what "Holy fucking shit" meant. Whatever. "Idril Galathil!" he shouted and reminded himself not to do it again or a third time either. He'd never seen "Beetlejuice" but he did see "Mr. Mom" when it came to the minimall at Mirkwood and once you've seen one Michael Keaton movie, you've seen them all.   
  
"You know this elf?" Aragorn felt it was his duty in this plot to say something now.   
  
"Her name means Legolas' Annoyance." Legolas announced, wondering why Aragorn and his interracial ways didn't already know that. You'd think he'd had his hand up Arwen's shirt enough times to pick up at least something useful. Of course Legolas only knew that that's what her name meant because he ran it through an Elvish name translator on the sly, but...whatever.   
  
"Okay boy and girl and dwarf, let's get on the road again. The moonlight and quilts of roses aren't going to wait." Aragorn winked at Legolas and didn't realize he'd just ensured his eyes would be stabbed out in his sleep.   
  
"We are NOT taking her with us." Legolas couldn't feel his legs and realized this was because Idril's were still wrapped around his waist.   
  
"Sure we are. We have to have someone and we agreed, the girl in the window."   
  
"Wait, let's take the dead one. I've always wanted to be a necrophyliac." Legolas pleaded.   
  
"No dice there, my shiny-haired friend. Help her get her obnoxiously wide array of elegant gowns and musical instruments and let's get going."   
  
"Why in Zeus' name are you here?" Legolas understood that Zeus was not part of the original deity-structure, but this plot was already shot to Hell.   
  
"My family went on the boats to the never-dying place."   
  
"And you didn't go with them...why?"   
  
"Uh, they told me to find you...and even if I didn't, not to bother looking for them."   
  
Legolas wondered if he stabbed himself in the head if anyone would notice.   
  
"They told you find Legolas?"   
  
"Actually, they told me to find a band of orcs and walk up to them wearing a sign that said 'Hi, I'm Food.' but I decided I'd rather find my precious Legolas."   
  
"Precious? Can't nobody steal my precious from me." Gomerl or whatever stuck his head in through the door and announced.   
  
"Yes, she wants to steal your precious. Eat her." Legolas stepped back and pointed.   
  
"Nevermind. She just wants you, Elf" The puppy-man-hobbit-whatever skipped away.   
  
"Aragorn, I'm telling you...if we take her, I'm defecting to the Dark Side."   
  
"I'm sorry, were you talking?" Aragorn couldn't hear him. All the grease had clogged his ears.   
  
Legolas threw his hands in the air and sighed. Maybe he could trade her to some hideously ugly creature in exchange for...nothing.  
  
  
  
(continued)  
  
There will be more to this, assuming that it doesn't get deleted...but I have to drink more first. 


End file.
